The Hanging Tree
by DCEverett
Summary: Hunger Games!Klaine AU: Katniss and Peeta are dead, the rebellion never lived, and Snow's reign raged on. It's the 99th Hunger Games, Blaine and Kurt are reaped. Falling in love with a boy you're suppose to kill becomes a BIG problem. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE.
1. The Tributes

**Author's**_** Note:**_

_Hey!_

_So I've had this HG/Klaine AU crossover thing idea for like months and so I finally wrote it down on paper a couple weeks ago. There were many drafts of the first chapter, and I'm still working on it as I go._

_But this is basically a new one for you. As always, the pairing is Klaine._

_The official summary:_

_****What i****f Peeta had swallowed the berries before Katniss could stop him? What if she was crowned the 74th Hunger Games victor and the reign of President Snow raged on? In the 99th Hunger Games, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are reaped and sent to the Capitol to fight to the death against 22 other tributes for the victor crown. When Kurt the Career and Blaine the Victor Blood meet for the first time and fall in love in the midst of everything, they are thrust into the arena. And this time, there is no Nightlock to cheat them both out of the arena alive.** **_

_I'm sure there are a lot of holes in my story that I'm too lazy to fill, so I'm sorry. _

_But enjoy. If you don't understand some things, want to ask me just random questions, or send me hate mail, ask me on my tumblr (daltonacademywarblerette) or it will be answered in later chapters (if the question is related to the story)._

_*Oh, and the Hunger Games song, "The Hanging Tree" will be more relevant as the story progresses. I know exactly what I'm gonna do with it._

_**Oh, and if you haven't read HG but you're still reading this fic... you're like... stupid. Go read the book cause you won't get anything_

_**WARNINGS:** Violence and language._

_**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Glee, Hunger Games or Suzanne's and RIB's characters._

* * *

><p>At the base of Katniss Everdeen's "memorial" statue, Blaine sat picking at a slice of bread his mother gave to him to eat before he ran out the door. No one was outside at this time because today was a "special" day.<p>

_Today was the Reaping._

Blaine shivered at the ominous silence of the town square. The merchants and store owners closed their shops and kiosks. The houses had their curtains drawn. Nothing but the knots in Blaine's stomach were with him now.

On Reaping days, no one would ever leave their houses except for Blaine. People thought it ran in his genes, since no one else before Blaine would be out except for none other than Blaine's late aunt, Katniss Everdeen. Now it's only Blaine wandering the district and beyond, since Katniss died in the Quarter Quell.

"Hey."

Blaine looked up. Rachel Berry, his older half-sister, patted his shoulder and sat down next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked her.

"Mom wanted me to come find you. She wants you to come home and get ready."

Blaine quietly groaned. "I don't wanna do this." He whispered.

"We have to, Blaine. We're Victor Blood. They watch for us _every year._ They'd notice if we're not there—"

"I know, I know, I'm going to the Reaping! I just… I _hate_ how they can just do this to us—to all of us! It's inhumane. It's so _sick_."

"I know, Blaine."

"And I hate how it's harder for _us,_ you know? Just because we're Katniss' niece and nephew doesn't mean that our names have to be put in more times than the others. Fucking Snow."

Rachel pinched his arm. "Keep it down! I don't wanna get in trouble!" She whispered sharply into Blaine's ear.

"Sorry!"

"Blaine, we have to go." Rachel stood up and brushed at her soft peach dress that was a hand-me-down from their mother. Blaine followed in suit and took his sister's hand. She squeezed it and they walked away from their aunt's statue toward their small home in the Seam.

* * *

><p>In the District 12 square, Blaine stood with the other 16-year-olds while Rachel stood with the 17-year-olds. They made eye contact and nodded to each other with reassuring smiles.<p>

Effie Trinket exited the Justice building, flamboyant as she had been 24 years ago when she reaped Katniss and Peeta. She mounted the stage and took her place at the podium. As soon as she started talking, Blaine stopped listening and concentrated on keeping his body still. He looked over his shoulder at Rachel. He could tell she was singing in her head. The way her eye brows were scrunched together, her eyes squeezed shut, and her hands clenched tightly meant that she was concentrating really hard on blocking out Effie's voice with the quiet lullabies their mother used to sing to them at night when they were children. She was probably singing her favorite. She sang it day and night, when things went bad, and when she was happy. It was her song.

_Are you awake, child?_

_Go to sleep._

_Escape reality, go to sleep._

_It is better in your dream._

_Are you awake, child?_

_Go to sleep._

_Are you awake, child?_

_Go to sleep._

_Sweeter living in your sleep._

_Things will be better, just trust me._

_Are you awake, child?_

_Go to sleep._

_Are you awake, child?_

_Go to sleep._

_All your secrets are safe with me._

_Evil is wished away and hope is here to stay,_

_Are you asleep, child?_

_Sweetest dreams._

Finally, the corners of Rachel's lips rose a tiny bit. She was happy.

"And now," Effie sighed, catching Blaine's attention. He looked back up at her. "It is time to reap our girl tribute!" Her manicured hand reached into the glass bowl full of white strips of paper. 12 of those strips had Rachel's name on them. After a suspenseful and agonizing minute of Effie mixing the bowl of names with her fingers, she finally pulled one out from the bottom of the bowl.

Blaine closed his eyes. _Don't say Rachel Berry, don't say Rachel Berry, don't say—_

"Our lovely girl tribute is… Meredith Mossle!"

Blaine exhaled in relief because Rachel was safe. Rachel was gonna live another year.

Meredith, a baby-faced 14-year-old mounted the stage and stood beside Effie. Her whole frame was shaking.

"And now it's time to reap our dear boy tribute!" Effie announced.

Blaine's heat started to beat faster. His slippery palms clenched and unclenched as Effie twisted her hand around the inside of the bowl. She pulled a slip out.

"Our dear boy tribute is…"

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut.

"… Blaine Anderson!"

* * *

><p>"Ladies and gentlemen—I give you your ninety-ninth Hunger Games District One tributes, Xeva Blackabee and Kurt Hummel!" Roverabella Dehramiss said to the audience gathered in the district square. Deafening cheering echoed through the square as the animated district escort with flaming red hair gestured for Kurt and Xeva to shake hands. Kurt flashed a dangerous smile to the cameras perched on the building rooftops—a smile that said "I'm coming for you, Capitol." Kurt took Xeva's stiff hand and gently squeezed it. Xeva blinked her eyes against her tears.<p>

Kurt shook his head at her foolishness. Being reaped for the Games was nothing to cry over. Ever since he was 10, he had been taught that the Hunger Games were an honor to be in. Being the mayor's son, he was taught that the Games were a result of selfish people who were fighting for meaningless things—things that weren't right and beneficial to the rest of the rest of the nation. Kurt felt that the districts deserved to be punished for what they did.

He never understood why they were an honor though, until when he turned 12 and finally had his name put in the tribute pool. Kurt realized then that he was fighting to prove something. He was fighting for what he believed in. Personally, he wanted to tell Snow that he agrees with him—that he's on his side. The Games are an honor to be in because Snow is basically Kurt's hero. The Games were created by snow's bare hands. Kurt felt lucky to be apart of it.

Xeva was still crying after she and Kurt said their goodbyes in the Justice building. She was wiping at her eyes when they met the Capitol camera crews at the train station platform. Kurt patted her shoulders awkwardly, trying to look like the sweetest person in the world. But as soon as the train doors closed, Kurt yanked Xeva's arm.

"What's wrong with you?" Kurt demanded. "Have your parents taught you nothing? You're lucky you're a tribute. I know so many people who would _kill_ to be you right now."

Xeva whimpered at the word "kill".

"Such a baby." Kurt muttered as Roverabella entered the car with their mentor.

Bronze was a tall man with dark eyes. His hair was a character on its own while his chin was covered by stubble. His famous scar stretched from his left ear down to the corner or his mouth, making his mouth pull up into a small half smirk. He pointed at Xeva.

"Stop crying. When they see how weak you are, you'll be the first to kill." Bronze handed her a handkerchief. Xeva took it but clenched it in her hand instead of bringing it to her eyes.

"Well at least one of you looks capable enough to make it though the first night," Bronze sighed, looking Kurt over. Kurt smirked. "Okay. One or both of you will be dead by next week, give or take a day. So my job is to keep both of you alive as long as possible. So here are the ground rules. One: listen to what I tell you or else you're gonna get your ass sliced up like a mother-fucking orange. Two: don't be a brat or else I'm gonna be the one to slice your ass up like a mother-fucking orange. Three: don't ever become allies with someone I don't approve of, cause then it's your _stupidity_ that gets your ass sliced—"

"Yeah, like an orange, we get it," Kurt interrupted. "Move on—"

Bronze slapped Kurt. "Don't be a smartass, kid. You just broke the brat rule."

Kurt clenched his teeth and his fists and looked back up at Bronze with dagger eyes. Bronze ignored him and continued.

"And one more thing—actually try to survive. You'd like to see your family again, right?"

And with that, he turned and went into his room, locking the door behind him.

* * *

><p><em>*Slipped in a little Anderberry for ya there. I just love the idea of Blaine and Rachel being siblings, even though they sucked face in BIOTA. Ignoring that so I can dream.<em>

_Reviews please? What do you think of it so far? I'm thinking that this story will be at least 20-25 chapters._

_But for now, if you get bored of waiting for this story to update, read my other stories if you haven't, or read the stories that I didn't post on here that I_ did_ post on scarvesandcoffee. Check them out, I'm still DCEverett on there _scarvesandcoffee(.net) _if you are not familliar with the site, it's a fanfiction website that's dedicated exclusively to Glee's couple Klaine. If you're a shipper and have never been on that site before, check it out. _

_~Lots of love _


	2. The Career

**_Author's Note:_**

_S__o the HG song The Hanging Tree is feautured in this chapter and I found this AMAZING fan arrangement of the song on youtube, and I'm like obsessed with it. It's like the most legit-sounding one I've heard so far._

_The Hanging Tree: /uKrCE1aYz7o_

_It's so beautiful and haunting. I love it._

* * *

><p>Blaine's shaking fingers fiddled with his token from home that Rachel gave him during their goodbyes at the Justice building. It was their aunt Katniss' mockingjay pin that was strung to a sturdy gold chain. After Katniss' body had returned to the district after the Quarter Quell, Prim was given the pin. She added the chain and handed it down to Rachel when she turned 12. Now it was Blaine's.<p>

Before the Peacekeepers pulled his parents and Rachel out of his room in the Justice building, Prim had sung "The Hanging Tree" to Blaine. It was an old song that his grandfather used to sing to Prim and Katniss. Blaine liked the sound of it when he recited the song to the mockingjays. It was his favorite song. It always reminded him of good memories and the woods past the District 12 fence. Thinking that he smelled pine, he quietly sang.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

Blaine sighed as aching memories of home washed over him. He quickly cleared his mind and tried to keep it clear as the train rattled on through the dark districts.

* * *

><p>Morning woke Blaine with her soft, sunlit fingers. Blaine knew where he was and soon the feeling of dread started to knot itself in his stomach. He changed his clothes quickly. Effie started rapping on his door.<p>

"Blaine, wake up!" She sang. "Come out when you're ready!"

Blaine opened the door.

"Oh, you're so cute. We don't have any cut boys like you in the Capitol," She pinched his cheek. "Come, come. Breakfast is served."

Meredith and their mentor Misha were talking quietly when Blaine entered the dinner car with Effie.

Misha was fairly young. She won the 91st Games at 13 years old. It was like a breath of fresh air for all the parents of 12. No one wanted Haymitch Abernathy mentoring their children as tributes since Katniss' death and his win in the Quarter Quell made him go almost over the edge. Misha was beautiful at 21: long blond hiar, tall, soft tan complextion, her rosy cheeks and pink lips a hit with _all_ the men of District 12… Blaine knew she was very attractive. It's just that he never thought she was_ appealing _in the ways the other men thought she was. No woman was appealing to him. It puzzled him, but at the same time it felt like it was normal.

"You're lookin' strong, kid." Misha greeted him.

Blaine gave a nod and sat down.

"So you're Katniss' nephew, huh? Heard a lot about you. My grandfather adores your mother. He took care of her during Kat's first Games, you know." She said, taking a bite of a buttered roll.

Blaine piled food onto his plate. "Oh?"

"Yeah. My uncle was Peeta Mellark, Kat's 'star-crossed lover'." She said in a mocking voice.

"Yeah, I kind of figured when they reaped you a couple years ago."

"It was a good strategy Kat and Peeta used in the Games—"

"Sorry, I don't really like the 'star-crossed lovers' idea—"

"I know, I wasn't gonna suggest it."

"Good."

Everyone silently ate for a few seconds until Blaine broke the silence.

"So what's our strategy? Are we just gonna try to survive and that's it?"

"Blaine, baby, we barely need one. One key to surviving is sitting right where you are." Misha cocked her head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Blaine demanded.

"C'mon, you're Victor Blood! I bet that the sponsors are already linin' up at your threshold."

"Misha, no one knows that I'm Victor Blood. And just because I'm a relative victor doesn't mean I'm some warrior god."

"I know, but you're _Katniss Everdeen's_ relative. Katniss was a well respected victor, even though the Capitol hated her.

"So this is all just basically based on popularity?"

"Yes! Sponsors are stupid. It needs to stay that way if both of you wanna have a chance of smelling Twelve's dusty coal air again."

"What do we do in the arena then?" Meredith asked.

Misha laughed. "Easy. Breath, drink, sleep, and kill."

* * *

><p>Kurt turned around and eyes his back side over his shoulder in the mirror. His opening ceremony ensemble was something he and his stylist designed together. Luko was reluctant at first but then gave in to Kurt's sketches he put together in less than 10 minutes. Tiny diamonds sparkled in his pompadour-styled hair as he twisted his body, modeling his simple suit was glittered in opaque rhinestones. A few feet from Kurt was Xeva, drizzled in glitter. Her long, fitted gown was dazzled with large transparent gems. The neck line sagged to the bottom of her ribcage, exposing her cleavage. The low-cut back was dressed and layered with loose white fabric that faded from white to clear material at the ends. Kurt made the dress so that when Xeva walks or moves forward, the loose fabric hanging from the back of her dress flows free behind her, like a flowing ghost… or like full-back angel wings. It was incredible to Luko that Kurt could pull something off like this.<p>

"Kurt, not only are you a vicious warrior, but also a brilliant young mind with magic hands." Luko commended.

Kurt mouthed a 'Thank you' as he decorated Xeva's hair with diamonds, like his own. Luko tossed a fistful of glitter onto the tributes.

Xeva's stylist Vyla clasped her hands over her heart. "Brilliant," she sighed. "Simply beautiful."

Kurt took Xeva's hand and spun her around once, examining the jewels on her dress.

"Don't slouch; stick out your chest. The top will look better. You've got boobs—show them off." Kurt commanded.

"Ooo, Kurt, you've been starin'?" Vyla giggled batting her eyes between him and Xeva.

Xeva arched an eyebrow.

"Oh please," Kurt responded, still concentrated on adjusting Xeva's dress. "Only think I've been staring at are your wrinkle lines."

Vyla's fingers snapped to her forehead, giving Kurt a sour look.

"Walk forward," Kurt directed Xeva. The back of her dress started fluttering. Soon he addressed the weird silence in the room. He sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. "I don't like girls _that way_." He confessed.

"Oh!" Vyla squeaked in surprise.

No one said anything else.

* * *

><p>Kurt and Xeva observed the other tributes from their chariot at the front of the procession. Kurt was unimpressed by the creativity, originality, and imagination that the stylists dressed their tributes in. It made him want to double over and vomit.<p>

"Oh, my stars, they're all pathetic." He scoffed.

"Yeah, none of the stylists are as impressive as you." Xeva replied.

"That's true."

"Well at least you'll take 'em all out of their misery soon enough."

"That's true also."

Xeva stood on her tip toes. "Oh," she sighed. "Twelve's okay, I guess."

Kurt stepped out a little farther to the side to get a better look. Both the tributes were turned away, talking to a short man with electric blue hair and gold tattoos rising up from the neck line (of the horrid monstrosity he was wearing) and covered his neck, curing over his jaws. The tributes wore the same thing: a glittering, full body black unitard with black boots that laced up to the knees. The entire back of the unitard was covered in long fluttering strips of bright red, orange, and yellow. Tiny scattered light buried deep in the thin strips illuminated them, making the tributes glow. The wind was starting to pick up, so the fluttering strips made the illusion of them catching on fire.

"That's… actually kind of good. What's Twelve again?" Kurt asked.

"Um… coal mining, I think." Xeva answered.

"Well, I guess they kind of grasped the concept okay." Kurt shrugged.

That's when 12's tributes start to mount their chariot. Kurt did a double take.

The boy. _The boy._ He was… wow. He was _mesmerizing._ The first think Kurt saw was his eyes. They were a deep hazel that gave off a vibe—Kurt couldn't understand it. His curly hair was unmoved by the wind. His long neck led down to his broad shoulders and his sturdy midsection. His hands clenched the edge of the chariot, making his arms flex a little.

"Kurt!"

Kurt jumped and tore his eyes away from District 12's tribute boy. Xeva grabbed his hand. "What are you doing, we have to go!" She pulled him to the first chariot.

"I—uh…" Kurt murmured, clambering onto the chariot.

* * *

><p>After all the chariots rolled into the dark training center, Kurt climbed down from the chariot. He helped Xeva off, who has started wobbling in her high heels.<p>

"Careful not to rip your dress with your heels." Kurt warned under his breath.

"These hurt." She whimpered.

"You'll live." He said dryly, his eyes finding District 12's tribute boy.

* * *

><p>Effie snapped the curtains apart in Blaine's room, letting the sunlight in. Blaine groaned and pulled the covers over his head.<p>

"Up, up, up! It's training day!" Effie said.

Blaine didn't respond.

"Blaine, training is in an hour. You need to get dressed."

The covers around Blaine were drawn in closer.

Effie sighed in frustration. She left the room and came back with Misha.

"Hey, boy! Get up!" Misha yelled.

After Blaine muttered a "Get out", Misha yanked the covers off of Blaine and pulled him off the bed.

"Hey—!" Blaine grunted as he was thrust into the bathroom.

"Get ready!" was all Misha said before shutting the door.

Blaine fiddled with the shower controls before actually showering. After drying off, he found the fresh set of training clothes sitting on his bed. He quickly slipped it on. Something gleamed on his nightstand. Blaine looked over. It was the mockingjay pin necklace. Having forgotten about it, he slipped it around his neck and put on his shoes.

In the elevator down, Misha gingerly took the mockingjay pin between her forefinger and thumb.

"Wow," she said. "The actual mockingjay pin Katniss wore in both her Hunger Games. I've never actually seen it in person before. It's beautiful." Misha let it fall back against Blaine's chest.

"I remember that pin," Effie said. "Your mother turned it into a necklace?"

"Yeah." Blaine replied.

"That thing's a legend," Meredith said. "Everyone talks about it like it was some key to Utopia or something."

Misha became tense.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked her.

She shook her head at him, throwing him and Meredith a warning look. Effie didn't notice.

* * *

><p>Kurt anxiously looked around the training room.<p>

Ever since the opening ceremonies, 12's eyes—his golden hazel eyes—never left his thoughts. Sure, he's seen hazel eyes before, but these hazel eyes were different. The cried of love and fear; loss and gain; determination and failure. The felt like they've seen everything—that they _were_ everything. Kurt's eyes were just the same. 12's eyes were like fire. Something lived in his eyes; it was dormant, but it was still there.

And then there it was—the fire. Kurt felt it radiate around the room. The boy walked through the door with the other tribute girl, his eyes bright as ember. Kurt could feel it; he could feel that _something_. He was drawn to it like warmth on a cold night.

Kurt finally looked away from the intensity from everything.

_Today will be very interesting._

* * *

><p><em>R&amp;R pleaseandthankyous :)<em>


	3. The Victor Blood

**_Author's Note:_**

_So this chapter is like... the longest I've ever written for any of my stories. I think that's a bit of an accomplishment, even though it's a pretty lame accomplishment. I've always written chapers really short._

_So I'm pretty sure there are still a lot of holes with continuity because my mind somehow is still dwelling on the original versions of chapters that I write. I feel like RIB of Glee. So let me know if you notice any and I'll clean it up._

_Enjoy, broskis._

* * *

><p>It was the strangest thing. Every time Blaine would turn around, these electric blue eyes were on him. They belonged the boy of District 1—the beautiful one; the menacing one; the one that can penetrate 2 dummies with one spear.<p>

Blaine left training at the end of the day a little uneased by the Career's stares.

"Did you notice anyone staring at you?" He asked Meredith.

She shook her head. "I think everyone was too busy showing off to stare at me," she replied. "Why? Was someone staring at you?"

"Yeah." Blaine subtly nodded to the District 1 boy tribute talking to the other Careers.

Meredith quickly glanced in their direction. "Him?"

"Yeah," Blaine pulled her to the elevators. "Why do you think he's been staring at me?"

"Maybe you're a target…? We _are_ the weakest competitors in their books." She replied.

They entered the open elevator and pushed the button for their floor. The doors closed.

"Or maybe they want you as an ally." Meredith quietly added.

Blaine took in her fallen face. He took her hand. "Don't worry. No matter what, we're sticking together in the arena. I won't let you die."

"Thank you." She smiled and leaned into Blaine's arm.

Misha and Effie met them at the elevators on the 12th floor.

"So how'd it go?" Misha asked.

Blaine and Meredith didn't say anything about the boy with the blue eyes.

* * *

><p>"So did you see anyone you want as an ally—well, that is, if you want one." Misha said over dinner.<p>

Meredith looked over at Blaine, who kept eating and ignoring the question… and the thought of the District 1 boy.

Meredith cleared her throat. "District Nine looks okay. The girl was helping me with knives and the boy was learning camouflage… seems innocent enough. Eleven looks sketchy and the rest are _definitely _not trustworthy." Meredith said, looking over at Blaine again.

"Oh. Well, see what they're all about tomorrow during training. Blaine, what did you see?"

Blaine put down his fork and sighed. "Well, it's hard to pay attention to anyone when someone else is watching your every move."

"Who, dear?" Effie asked. "Who was watching you?"

"More like staring…" Meredith muttered.

"District One's boy." Blaine said.

"A Career?" Misha gasped. "No Career has laid their eyes on us since Seventy-Four."

"Yeah, we know, Peeta. Geez, Mellark. You need to let go of the Seventy-Fourth Games. You're like… obsessed, just cause you're Peeta's blood." Meredith said.

"Hey, I'm trying to get a Twelve a pool of Victors—something to be proud of. Those Games were like a turning point for us, even if the rest of Panem doesn't know it. Everything started with Katniss and Peeta. I just want us to be on top."

"Well, no duh, we all want everyone to stop thinking so lowly of us," Blaine said. "But lets face it. We can't be on top. No matter what any of us do, we'll just be town down; not just us, but _all of us_—the districts. It doesn't matter if Twelve wins or loses—"

"Blaine, sweetheart, that's enough." Effie calmly growled.

Blaine bit his lip. Effie sat her napkin down on top of her half-empty plate and excsed herself from the table.

"It's time for you to go to bed." Misha said to Meredith. Meredith nodded and left the table.

"You, come with me." She mouthed to Blaine. She grabbed Blaine's shirt collar and pulled him into her room.

She hurled him into the wall. "Did you have ANY idea what you were saying out there? You could have gotten us killed!" She whispered furiously.

"What?"

"This place is _bugged!_ _They're _listening to everything we all say! Remember that you are in The Capitol! We could be charged for Treason!"

"I'm sorry, but I needed to rebuke! You _clearly_ don't understand perfectly—"

"Oh, I understand. But I can't have you running around yelling about _things_!" Misha shoved Blaine's shoulders. "Geez, what is with you Everdeens? Always trying to start rebellions and shit…"

"What?"

Misha laughed bitterly. "What do you mean, 'what'?"

Blaine pulled her closer. "What _rebellion_?"He whispered.

She brought her lips to her ear. "Haymitch Abernathy, along with others were planning to rebel against the Capitol, just like in the dark days. They used Katniss and Peeta to help fuel the spark of the fire—the fire that was to bring down the Capitol, but it all came crashing down after Peeta accidentally swallowed the berries—and Peeta and Katniss didn't even know anything about _anything_ at the time. The Capitol realized that it was happening again. They knew the rebels were using Katniss, so they killed her off in the Quarter Quell and put that stupid statue in the district square. Do you know why it's there?"

"Yeah, of course I do. It's to honor Katniss for being a great inspiration for incoming tributes of future Games because of her courage, endurance, and cleverness."

Misha laughed bitterly again. "Is that what they taught you in school?"

Blaine nodded.

"No, Blaine. It's a double message. It was to remind us that if we try anything like what Katniss did in the arena, we'll end up like her—like District Thirteen. It was also to mock all the rebels. The Capitol is _sick_, Blaine."

"That's why everyone puts quotations around 'memorial', when they talk about the statue?"

"Yeah. Your mom fell apart when it was brought into the square, or so I heard."

Blaine started shaking his head. "Well, what does that prove? I'm not starting a…a _rebellion_!"

"Neither was Katniss, but you know what? Your mom told me she was _exactly_ like you when she was your age: muttering things against the Capitol—bad things that'd get you killed, going into the games, not knowing that you can change a nation with one move—even an unconscious move! The Capitol has already been watching you since you were reaped. But whether or not you want it," Misha took Blaine's face into her hands. "Katniss left you and your family a legacy that needs to be fulfilled. You can follow through or ignore everything I just told you. But no matter what, you have to be careful. It takes one spark to light a wild fire." Misha dropped her hands from Blaine's face and backed away.

As Blaine absorbed everything he just heard, he turned to the door.

"Wait," Misha said at Blaine started to turn the door knob. She put her lips to his ear again. "You didn't get to finish your sentence from dinner. Why can't Twelve be on top?"

Blaine sighed. "No matter what, being on top won't change anything, it wouldn't matter. We can't do anything because the Capitol is killing us all off one… by… one."

* * *

><p>"So, Mister Kurt Hummel," Ceasar Flickerman said to Kurt, who sat across from him on stage. "I hear you were the mastermind behind the beautiful Opening Ceremony ensembles you and your lovely District One counterpart wore, yes?"<p>

"Yes, I—well, my stylist and I worked very hard on them." Kurt replied with a smile.

"So you design amazing outfits, yet you managed to pull an _eleven_ in training! How can a delicate person like you pull that off?"

"Well, I'm _full_ of suprises."

"Sweet but _fierce_, I like it! Don't you all like it?" Ceasar gestured to the audience.

The audience let out an appraising roar, just the way Kurt liked it. Quickly, he glanced down at Blaine, the tribute boy from 12, whose name he learned from the training scores. Blaine's hazel eyes stood out from the dark of the audience, like a cat hunting at night. Kurt struggled to to look back up at Ceasar.

"So how do you feel about everything?" Ceasar asked, leaning forward.

"I feel _so_ honored to be here," Kurt said confidently. "Sore, it's a little nerve-racking, but I'm from District One. Being a tribute is something to be proud of back home."

"Really? Wow, I've never heard that before."

Kurt's chest swelled. "Yes, I'm confident that I'm gonna get through this."

"You seem it!"

The three minutes were up.

"Well, Mister Hummel, it was amazing talking to you, and best of luck to you!"

Kurt and Ceasar shook hands. As Kurt dismounted the stage, he glanced at Blaine again and his hazel eyes. They were full of fear.

* * *

><p><em>"Why do you think he's been staring at me?"<em>

_ "Maybe you're a target."_

Meredith was right. Blaine was a target. After Kurt dismounted the stage, Blaine's sweaty palms started shaking. Meredith grabbed a hold of them.

"What's wrong?" She whispered.

"You were right." Blaine whispered back.

"What? About what?"

"I'm a target. _We're_ targets. Didn't you hear him? He's determined to win. And he's been staring at me for the past few days in training. One plus one equals…?"

"Oh, Blaine," Meredith said when Blaine breathing became heavier. She rubbed his hands. "Please stop freaking out. You're worrying about him when there will be twenty-one others to really worry about. And anyways, do you really think that we're gonna make home alive, let alone one of us?"

"Maybe."

"And anyways, you're Vic—" Meredith caught herself. "Nevermind. I don't want to worry you further."

Blaine nodded his head. He knew what she was gonna say. He's Victor Blood. Because of Katniss, the gamemakers are probably gonna take him out. Probably become of the stupid rebellion Misha was talking about the other night.

Blaine finally relaxed and Meredith patted her hands.

Ceasar Flickerman flew through the tribute interviews quickly. Soon enough, it was Blain's turn. Blaine met Meredith at the end of the stage stares as she was getting off the stage. They squeezing each other's hands briefly, and then Blaine mounted the stage.

Ceasar shook his hand and Blaine sat down.

"So, Blaine Anderson of District Twelve—tell us about yourself." Ceasar began.

"What would you like to know?" Blaine asked, leaning back into his seat.

"Well, you scored pretty high for a District Twelve tribute—a _ten!_ What do you do back home?"

"Nothing really. I just help my mom with her patients. She's the district healer. Any weapon skill I have, I probably gained her. I'm like a total _dud_!"

The audience laugh.

"I'm serious! I'm not at all anywhere near the person the people of my district expect that I am."

"And who might that be?"

"Oh, just an athletic guy who can throw around bullies and shoot bows and arrows like… nevermind." Blaine glanced at Misha, who sat on the platform off the stage with the other mentors and stylists. She nodded her head in approval. She wanted Blaine to "unconsciously" bring up the truth about his family. No one in the Capitol and the rest of Panem (except 12 and Snow) knew of his blood connection with Katniss.

"Like who? We're all _dying _ to know." Ceasae patted Blaine's knee. "Isn't that right, everyone?"

The audience agreed.

"Okay, okay. Everyone thinks that I can wield a bow and arrow because my aunt could." Blaine confessed.

"Who's your aunt?" Ceasar asked.

"Katniss Everdeen."

There was a collective gasp from the audience.

Ceasar was wide-eyed in his chair. "Son, are you serious?"

"Yeah. Even ask Misha Mellark over there." Blaine pointed to Misha.

Still wide-eyed, Ceasar turned to Misha. The audience held their breaths.

"Is it true?" Ceasar asked her.

She stood up from her chair. "It's as true as the fact that I'm Peeta's niece." Everyone knew that Misha was a Mellark.

Ceasar jumped up in excitement. "Oh, oh my!"

The audience went insane with excitement too. Ceasar stood Blaine up as the timer went off. Everyone applauded Blaine.

"Blaine Anderson! So you're the son of Katniss's darling sister, Prim?" Ceasar asked over the audience's roar.

"Sure am!"

"What an honor! You're aunt was one of my favorite victors." Ceasar started shaking Blaine's hand vigorously. He then bowed and gestured Blaine off the stage. All the mentors and stylists on the platform were standing, clapping lazily for Blaine with sour faces.

"Wow, you really are Katniss's blood," Effie said when they got back to the training center. "The Capitol audience is crazy for you as they were for Katniss."

"Everything _has_ to be about Katniss, doesn't it," Blaine said sourly. "It's like Blaine Anderson doesn't even exist. All everyone sees is Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire."

"In the end, it's worth it," Misha said. "You have as much chance of winning as the Careers do. Do you know how many sponsors are lining up at our door step? I mean, it worked for me, being one of the famous star-crossed lovers from District Twelve's niece, and I'm not even Victor Blood! Look where I am now: alive and well, and you can be that too next year, and the year after that, and so on."

"And what about Meredith? You're just gonna leave her in the arena to die, not even gonna try, to give a single thought about it?"

"Blaine, of course we're gonna try to help her too, we—"

Blaine stormed off to his room.

Misha turned to Meredith. "No hard feelings? You understand, right?"

" Yeah, I do." She said sourly and walked off too.

* * *

><p><em>Shoot me a review, please?<em>

_Next up: The Games._


	4. The Games

_**Author's Note****:**_

_I'm getting seriously busy and am on writer's block so the chapters are gonna come out reeeeaaaaaaaally slow. Sorry, but it's called life._

_Now..._

_Let the 99th Hunger Games begin!_

* * *

><p>Not a wink of sleep graced Blaine as dawn slowly started hinting itself at the Capitol's skyline.<p>

There was a soft tap at Blaine's door. It made him jump. He threw his sheets off of his body and tip-toed to his door.

"Who is it?" Blaine asked the door quietly.

"It's Misha, open up." came a whisper through the door from the other side.

Blaine opened the door for a fully dressed Misha.

"How did you know I was awake?" Blaine asked her.

"Who the hell sleeps the night before their first day of their Games? C'mon, I wanna show you something."

After Blaine pulled on a pair of pants, Misha led him through winding dark hallways and up a short flight of stairs. She opened a heavy-looking door that lead outside.

"Are we allowed up here?" Blaine asked as they stepped out onto the rooftop.

"I guess so. I mean, no one else comes up here."

The dim light of the rising sun cast a soft glow on all the hanging garden flowers that wiggled in the soft breeze of the morning. Blaine started to wonder why a horrible day like this one would start out this beautiful.

"How do you know about this place? Did you just find it randomly?" Blaine asked.

"No. Haymitch Abernathy showed it to me when he mentored me during my Games… said it was Peeta and Katniss' go-to spot when they wanted to escape the day."

Blaine nodded and leaned over the railing.

"Careful," Misha warned. "There's an electric force field just a little bit off the railing."

Blaine got off the railing quickly and back away two steps.

Misha laughed. "The field's electric shock probably won't hurt as much as what will happen to you in the next couple of weeks."

"Ha, well _that's_ reassuring." Blaine replied sarcastically. The humor was hollow. "Why did you bring me up here anyways?"

"I just… felt like a total bitch to the both of you these past couple of days. Wait, no. I've been a bitch to _all_ my tributes. I'm just… I just feel like I should at least tell on of my tributes the truth."

"What truth…?"

Misha sighed. "In the beginning, my first year of mentoring, I told myself not to get close to any of my tributes. I was afraid that when I watch them die, that I'd start crying and screaming over a kid that I've known for only a few days, but shared a district with—a _home_ with—their entire lives. Blaine… the connection a tribute has to their mentor is deep, but shallow. The mentor was the tribute once, so we know how the tributes feel going into the Games. When the tribute becomes a victor, then mentor, then they finally realize what goes on while your kid fights for their lives and the lives of their district. The feeling off knowing that you can't help your tribute is deafeningly painful. Watching their life slipping away is unbearable, because the mentor is the only person on the outside who has the ability to try a little bit to help the tribute survive when they're not fighting.

"For the past few years, I haven't shed a single tear over anyone. But I'm _dead_ inside, Blaine. Instead of crying, I've bottled up all the pain and grieving. I thought my not getting close to people strategy didn't work. Every time any of my tributes die, I die a little inside. That's why I'm a bitch to my tributes. It helps a little, but still…"

"But why me?" Blaine asked. "Why are you telling _me_ this? Why not Meredith, or next year's tributes?"

"Because you're a lot like me."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never met anyone I could trust, or relate to, or talk to. Then _you_ were reaped. I feel like… you'd be the only person who would understand what I say. I feel like we're very alike, even though I barely know a thing about you."

Blaine shook his head. "Everything you just told me isn't sinking in very well. It's starting to slip away."

Misha smiled sadly. "At least I got it off my chest, right?"

"Yeah, I—I guess so.

The sky was lighter by then.

"Blaine, you have a _very _good chance of surviving at least today." Misha said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Whatever got you a ten in training will take you through the first week."

Blaine nodded.

"And Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Do everything in your power to keep Meredith alive. When the time comes, separate."

Blaine nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

"I just want one of you back home alive so I don't have to kill myself over this. I know that sounds selfish."

With that, Misha left Blaine alone on the rooftop.

* * *

><p>Blaine wanted to cry. Knowing what Misha's going through really reached him. He knew what she was talking about. He watched people die every day, right on his dining table. He even stopped eating there. At night, he always could hear their cries of pain, their last gasps of breath, their last words—Misha was right. Blaine was the only person who could really understand what she was talking about. Blaine wanted her to stop suffering. He wanted to stop suffering himself. But it can never stop. Not while Snow keeps terrorizing the districts with the Games. Snow was the cause of everything bad in Panem, the cause of all the pain. Everything just leads back to Snow. He needed to be stopped.<p>

Misha's words started running through his mind.

"_Katniss left you and your family a legacy that needs to be fulfilled. You can follow through or ignore everything I just told you."_

_A legacy that needs to be fulfilled._

_You can follow through or ignore everything…_

_You can follow through…_

Blaine was willing to stop the pain. No pain was better than no food and no money. It's the most powerful thing he can win his district now.

* * *

><p>"You ready, kid?" Kaiya, Blaine's stylist, asked as she entered Blaine's launch room in the arena's catacombs.<p>

"No." Blaine replied.

"Then be ready if you wanna live. Misha told me to tell you that she can no longer do anything for you from now on. She can send you things, but that's it. You need to defend yourself and Meredith, you got that? Get as far away from the Copia with her as soon as fast as you can."

"Okay. Thank you… for everything. You've been wonderful, Kaiya."

"Thank _you_, sweetheart." She smiled and turned to leave the room.

"Wait," Blaine said.

Kaiya turned back to Blaine. "Yes?"

"C-Can you tell Misha that I said goodbye, and that once she gets back to Twelve after the Games, to tell my sister what she told us about… what Katniss wants for our family?"

Kaiya looked puzzled for a second. "Yes, I will, Blaine."

"Please tell her. My sister needs to know."

"I'll make sure I do. Good luck, sweetheart."

Blaine smiled as the glass tube started lowering around him. He waived to Kaiya, and then he was risen up into mist.

* * *

><p>Kurt could smell Xeva's fear all the way from inside his launch room. He pretended to gag.<p>

"I bet two lives Xeva won't survive the initial battle." He said to Luko, who sat on a nearby couch.

"Excited?" Luko asked.

"Yes." Kurt smiled. "I can feel my will to kill flowing through my arms. Eyes on the prize, Kurt, eyes on the prize."

"Be very careful out there. This world needs more people like you. You're extraordinary."

"I know."

"Now: what are you fighting for?"

"My district. My family. My life. My nation."

"Why?"

"Because I need to show Snow we're worthy of favor. We're the better district. The districts need to be punished for what we did to destroy the once stable prosperity of our nation."

"Good. I've heard about District One's loyalty and honor. Very interesting."

"It's the right thing to do."

"Get on your platform. It's time."

Kurt hopped onto his platform and let out a gust of air.

_Yes._

This… this is it. This is what he's been waiting for—training for, _all his life._ This is his chance to make his parents and his district proud. To be known as Panem's best? For all he knows, that could be greater than anything life has to offer—maybe even life itself. There's no thought about losing, or being slaughtered like the pork he feasts on, here in the Capitol—only winning, and what great glory it will bring him. Nothing matters now. It's time to protect everything that's his. It's time to show everyone who he is.

_Yes._

This is it. This… this is what Kurt Hummel has been waiting for.

* * *

><p>The arena was gray. Beyond the ring of tributes surrounding the Cornucopia, thick fog blinded the tributes from seeing the deadly obstacles that waited for them.<p>

Kurt watched Blaine from across the open ring of bare, grainy earth where, in the middle, the golden Cornucopia sat, the brilliancy of its color dulled by a thin veil of mist. He watched him kiss his mockingjay pin, or his aunt's famous and infamous mockingjay pin, that was attached to a gold chain around his neck.

Never would Kurt have thought that Blaine would be someone of ultimate importance. Blaine was Victor Blood. Already, he could be a primary target among the rest if the Careers. He could see Joth and Scout, the District 4 Careers, sneering at the District 12 tributes.

"Let the ninety-ninth Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed. Kurt didn't know if he was imagining it, or the thick fog surrounding the tribute ring around the Cornucopia really did get impossibly and suffocatingly thicker.

All the tributes looked around the circle at each other, waiting for the gong to sound. Kurt looked over at Blaine again. He was partially crouched, ready to take off. He looked over at District 12's girl tribute, Meredith. She looked seriously determined, mimicking Blaine's stance. He looked over at the other Careers. They were all ready to kill, sly grins playing on their lips. Kurt looked at Xeva. It looked like she was about to pee her pants.

The gong sounded.

All the tributes threw themselves toward the Cornucopia in a blur, reaching for the first pack or weapon their hands found. Kurt got to the Cornucopia first. His hand found a spear. Without turning around, he jabbed the spear head backwards behind his body, piercing a tribute in the stomach, posed to attack him. He quickly yanked it out and swung it to his left with the arrowhead pointing out, slitting a clean cut to another newly arrived tribute's throat. Two non-Careers were fighting each other a few feet away from Kurt. Their battle over a pack was pathetically weak. Kurt grabbed 2 knives, both having blood-curdling jagged blades, and threw them at the tributes. The knives separately took both tributes out, one lodging itself in a skull right above the temple, the other in the neck, right below the jaw line. The mist made their fast-flowing blood dark, not the satisfying ruby red he was hoping to see today. 30 yard away, a bulky tribute was getting ready to charge at a Career, Romuth from District 2, who was looking down at his fresh kill. Kurt picked up an unused steel spear and effortlessly sent it flying into the bulky tribute's heart. The tribute collapsed at the heels of Romuth, spurting blood onto his calves. Feeling the blood, Romuth turned his head to look down at the dead tribute, then up at Kurt. Kurt nodded to him in alliance.

Most of the other tributes had fled the Cornucopia by the time the initial battle was over. The other Careers gathered stray packs and weapons scattered around the Cornucopia, barely having killed anyone because of how quick on their feet everyone was this year. The fog made it even more difficult, making it harder to see everyone else.

Kurt scanned the field for Blaine, his heart beating faster than it was minutes ago. He was nowhere. His body wasn't dead on the ground. Kurt sighed in relief.

Blaine was alive.

* * *

><p>Each step Blaine took became heavier as he ran from the Cornucopia with Meredith at his flank. They both managed to escape with 3 knives and a heavily packed sack with unknown contents.<p>

They ran, and ran, and ran. Blaine didn't realize that he was a few paces in front of Meredith until she spoke.

"Blaine, Blaine, I can't move." Meredith said, out of breath.

Blaine turned around and saw Meredith struggling to lift her feet, the fog growing at her ankles.

"Oh, maybe it's the fog." Blaine said, making his way to Meredith. The ground felt stickier under his boots.

Blaine slipped his hands under her armpits and yanked upwards.

"Ow!" Meredith squeeled. "Ow, ow, ow!" She repeated when Blaine yanked harder.

"Sorry!" Blaine whispered. He tried to move around Meredith, but found that his feed had stuck to the ground.

"Oh, shit. I'm stuck, too." He started yanking on his own legs.

"Wow, great. If anyone finds us here, we're dead." Meredith muttered.

After a few seconds of struggling, Blaine growled in frustration. "Goddamit!"

"Shh! Keep it down!"

"Sorry!"

Blaine felt like he's been apologizing too much. The arena is not a forgiving place. Here, saying sorry won't matter.

The fog started lifting.

Drooping trees with strands of thick moss hanging off the branches rose out of murky water and rotten-looking bushes, inches from where the wet earth had swallowed up Blaine and Meredith's feet.

Meredith bent down and started poking at the mud that encased their feet. "It's really thick."

"What the fuck is this?" Blaine said.

"I think it's a swamp or a bog or something. We learned about these places a few months ago in school. They said that these places were beyond our fences and should never approach. There are deadly monsters in places like these."

"What, and you believe them?"

A deep grumbling and hissing caught their attention. They looked over at the cloudy brown water. Glowing eyes were fixed on the trapped tributes. The eyes belonged to a creature with a long snout and a long, smooth back and tail. Its body surfaced and started slithering towards them. Spikes sprouted from its skin on its head and rippled down the creature's back.

"Blaine, look!" Meredith yelled.

"I know, I'm not blind!"

"Do something!"

Blaine frantically looked around for something to keep the creature away or free them from their muddy prison. His eyes caught onto the forgotten pack on Meredith's back.

Blaine started snapping his fingers at her. "Give me the pack!"

She slipped the pack from her back and handed it over. Blaine ripped it open and rummaged through it.

The creature slipped out of the water and crawled slowly towards the tributes.

Finally, Blaine's hand came up with a bottle of water. He quickly emptied it onto the mud around his and Meredith's feet. Soon, it became easier to move their boots around as the mud became soft. They stomped their way away from the water and into dense wood. Their feet surfaced from the mud and were easy to move again.

"Lets go back to the edge of the woods." Blaine panted.

When they reached the hairline of the trees, they hid behind trunks, since the Cornucopia, occupied now by the Careers, was 100 yards from where the trees ended and the dark earth began. Extending from behind the Cornucopia, the land rose up to a tall, bare hill.

"Blaine, I'm starting to sink a little bit, I think." Meredith whispered from behind her trunk.

"Just keep moving your feet." Blaine advised.

Just then, the cannon started going off for the dead tributes of the initial battle. Blaine and Meredith counted 9 shots. 9 tributes dead. That meant 15 tributes were left.

* * *

><p>9 tributes were dead. None of them were Blaine. Kurt smiled to himself.<p>

"What are you happy about? And don't say that you're alive. You're a Career—Careers are always alive after the Games start." Santana, the District 2 girl tribute said to Kurt.

Kurt shook his head.

"Fine. Keep your perverted thoughts to yourself, then."

Kurt whipped out one of his knives and held it to her neck, the tip biting her skin. "Excuse me?"

Santana let out a tinkling laugh. "Calm down, baby boy," she lowered the tip of the blade with her fingertip. "Heard through the grapevine that you're not attracted to girls." She traced a finger down the front of Kurt's torso.

Kurt slapped her hand away.

"Just remember, honey bear—I'm available if you happen to change you sparkly little mind, because I find you insanely attractive, except for the fact that you design clothes. Now _that's_ kind of a turn off."

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think sex is gonna help me win. And anyways, having sex on national television is too scandalous, even for you." Kurt walked away after that.

Kurt sensed that something bad was gonna happen, and it was gonna connect straight to Santana. If Santana knew that he was gay, why would she have the audacity to ask him to have sex on national television? In front of the entire nation? But if he really is attractive as she says Kurt is, then maybe it was enough to catch Blaine's attention—that is, if he is gay too. But still, a bad feeling was crawling up Kurt's spine. Santana is a little schemer. She knows how to take out the competition, as she had revealed was her talent when he was talking to her during lunch after Training one day.

So for now, Kurt can't trust any of the Careers, even if they're in an alliance together. Kurt slipped his knife back on his belt with the others and picked up a steel spear, gripping it hard. When the time comes, maybe he'll be the one to kill Santana. But he hopes he won't be the one to kill Blaine. But he _was_ going to kill. He was born to.

* * *

><p><em>Review please!<em>


	5. The Snake

_**Author's Note:**_

_I feel like this isn't a chapter. It barely is. I don't even know what to fucking call this thing._

_Eh, lets just call it a chapter._

_It's VERY short, like... 400 words. I wrote it to... bridge chapter 4 to the REAL chapter 5, which is now chapter 6. So yeah._

* * *

><p>Kurt found Santana patting down her face and neck with dirt. She ran her fingers through her hair, ruffling it as she went.<p>

"What the hell are you doing?" Kurt asked.

"Making myself look like shit." Santana answered.

"Why are you doing that?"

Santana paused to look up at Kurt. "This is how I take out the competition."

The next day the Careers found two tribute boys sitting at the base of the tree, looking half dead. Their lips where pale with dryness and eyes dark with exhaustion.

After Santana disappeared deeper into the woods, the rest of the Careers hid among the tree branches. They had a clear view of the boys, hungry for their blood.

Moments later, Santana burst into their clearing, panting. She looked terrified and endangered, with the help of the dirt and messy hair. The boys leapt to their feet, both wielding knives. But they all knew that the two boys couldn't fight. They received low training scores, Kurt remembered.

Santana clawed at her throat and waved at them to stop. "No," she squeaked. "Don't—don't kill me." There was no voice left in her, and the only voice she could produce was scratchy.

The boys faltered for a second, unsure of what to do with her.

"I'm not gonna kill you, I have nothing!" She cried. "I just n-need h-help." She lost her balance and fell to the ground.

Stupidly, the boys took her in, forgetting that they're in the Games, where every one has to die if there were to be one victor standing.

The tall one with gray eyes and really dull red hair was from District 7 named Strauss. The other one with pale blue eyes and blonde hair with strands of brown was from District 10 named Fallax. He has a prominent limp. Kurt notice Santana observing it. She licked her lips.

Santana snaked her way in their hearts, making them forget that she was a lethal and merciless Career. She'd bat her eyelashes, caress their faces, and privately express her… "fondness" for each of them. The boys ended the day trusting her. In their sleep, Santana killed them both with a swipe of a knife.

The cannon fired twice, a few seconds apart as the careers slipped down to the ground and applauded Santana. She bowed.

"Sex is just one of my many weapons." She purred. Subtly, she glanced at Kurt.

Kurt was suddenly taken back to the moment that Santana expressed her attraction to Kurt.

_Sex is just one of my many weapons._

Kurt mentally made a note to kill Santana before she killed him.


	6. The First Kill

**_Author's Note:_**

_I just want to hug you all because I am blessed with all these amazing reviews, so thank you for all the support and love for my fic. You guys keep me going with this fic. _

_And I think you guys know what's gonna happen next in the story :)_

* * *

><p>Blaine's first kill was a young girl.<p>

Blaine was never a violent person back in 12. Usually, Blaine would never even lay a hand on a woman, especially the 12-year-old girl tribute from District 9. But he's in a different place where people change and people die. All because of President Snow. So when the time came, Blaine couldn't help but run.

On the third day of the games, 2 more tributes were dead, making it 11 tributes who will have families mourning over their cold, lifeless bodies. Blaine and Meredith's water supply was dangerously low. They needed to find water fast if they were to hold on to the hope that one of them will make it home. They searched their heavy pack for something that will help them find a source, but all that there was in the pack was dried fruits, beef jerky, a large plastic cup, some mesh, a heavy tight net, and a semi-loosely woven fabric material.

"What the fuck do we need mesh for?" Meredith had said.

For hours, they walked on the flat ground, hoping there was a spring somewhere. Water runs downhill, but there is no downhill except for the hill behind the Cornucopia. And clearly there was nothing running down it. They kept near the hairline of the woods so they wouldn't start sinking into the ground again.

On the fourth day, they ran out of water.

"Blaine," Meredith panted. "I'm so thirsty."

"I know, me too."

That's when the fog started rolling in.

It was just like when the games started: dense, gray, blinding. Blaine wondered how Panem was watching the Games on their televisions right now. How can they see him, or Meredith, or any of the other tributes with the fog?

After two more hours, they took a break. Sitting in a thick clump of bushes and tree trunks, they looked over the contents of their pack again. The ground was solid, so there was no worry of sinking.

"How do you think they're watching us right now?" Blaine asked Meredith.

"I don't know. Maybe they have something kind of like X-ray lenses or… or night vision, except for thick fog or something."

"What's the purpose for the fog then? Beside concealment or blind traps?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's it. Concealment and blind traps."

"Or it could be for water." Came a new voice.

Blaine and Meredith jumped. They both fell out of their bush, forgetting their pack. Bringing their knives from their belts, they scanned their surroundings for the phantom voice.

"I'm not going to kill you, don't worry." She said and jumped down from a nearby tree. Her green eyes were hard to miss, contrasting against the fog. She was a slim figure with fair skin and brown, stringy hair that reached her shoulders. She was almost as tall as Meredith, standing at about 5 feet and 3 inches. Her bugger eyes flickered over to the bush where the pack and its contents were spilled out. She held up her tiny hands.

"Who are you?" Blaine asked, awkwardly holding his knife out.

"My name is Sorace." The girl replied in a small voice.

"From what district?" Meredith asked.

"Nine."

Meredith was poised to throw her knife when Sorace waved her hands at her. "No, no, no, wait! I—I can help you!"

"How? Why? What do you want?"

"Are you thirsty?"

Blaine and Meredith looked at each other, then back at Sorace.

"What do you want?" Meredith repeated.

"I know how to get water." Sorace looked back down at what was hidden in the bush.

"How?"

"With what you have in your bag."

"Show us."

In District 9, they harvest grain. They had foggy days all the time. The water would condensate on the grain, giving it water. In the district, they developed a way to capture the moister from the fog and use it for hard days. They called it fog harvesting. To capture the water from the fog, they would use mesh or nets and then plastic tubs to catch the water.

"So this is what all this stuff if for?" Meredith said, holding the mesh.

"Yes." Sorace replied.

In minutes, the water droplets from the fog collected in the fabric of the net. Sorace wrung it out into the plastic cup. Within hours, all three had enough to drink.

Blaine and Meredith watched Sorace closely.

Over the past few days, she didn't have anything. No weapons, no food. No water. She didn't even know that mesh existed in the arena until she saw Meredith empty her and Blaine's pack for the first time. Sorace was in a tree at the time.

Sorace excused herself so she could pee. While she was gone, Blaine and Meredith assessed the level of danger she posed to them.

She didn't seem dangerous. She didn't look like she was gonna hurt them. She _was_ only 12. They didn't think she was gonna try anything. She was so tiny, so delicate.

Sorace came back shortly.

Night arrived.

"Where do you two usually sleep during the night?" Sorace asked.

"Usually in really thick bushes or up in trees. The moss makes great pillows." Meredith replied.

As Sorace settled into a tree, bundling up moss for a make-shift pillow, she looked down on Blaine and Meredith in a bush below.

"I won't kill you if you don't kill me." She said quietly, then went to sleep.

Blaine and Meredith looked at each other, reading each other's eyes. They were contemplating whether or not to get it over with and kill her. Meredith's wide eyes said yes.

Blaine shivered with dread. Inhuman. Cruel. She only just 12 years old, and already Snow had her fate planned out the moment she was called at the Reaping in her district. Blaine looked up at the sky in disgust. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to take one of Katniss' old bows hidden in the woods and shoot every one of the Capitol's authorities in their cold hearts. He wanted them to suffer, like all the tributes were while every last second of their lives ticked away.

Blaine woke up with a start, his glorified dream of a Snow-less world melting away. It was the boom of the cannons that woke him up in the gray, misty morning of the fifth day. He looked up to see if the cannon signaled Sorace's death, carried out by Meredith or an invisible force. No, she was alive, still in the tree, sleeping. Meredith was lying next to Blaine's feet, asleep too. Her dream was probably too wonderful to leave and go back to reality and the Games.

Blaine laid back down on the ground, ready for sleep to take his body over again, when the cannon fired again. 2 deaths in less than a minute. Someone must be moving fast. Blaine woke Meredith up.

"What?" She croaked.

"Two tributes died. I don't know where, but they're moving fast." Blaine whispered.

"Where do we go? We don't know where they're going or where they are."

Blaine pointed his finger up.

A few branches above Sorace, Blaine and Meredith pressed themselves against the tree, concealed by leaves and moss. They waited for someone to come by the tree.

Out of the trees came a lone boy with sandy blond hair. His hair was matted with sweat and he panted, doubled over at the base of the tree Blaine, Meredith, and Sorace were in. He coughed and panted. It was loud enough to wake Sorace. Meredith dropped a leaf onto her face. Sorace looked up at her and Blaine. Meredith brought her finger to her lips and then pointed down to the boy on the ground. Slowly she looked down, and recognition stuck her face.

"Crom!" She squealed.

The boy jumped, looking around.

Sorace climbed down from the tree and repeated his name.

He looked towards the direction of her voice, a tiny smile of relief showing on his lips. Once on the ground, Crom grabbed the top of Sorace's arms.

"You're still alive!" He said.

"Yeah, well last time I checked, my face hasn't been in the sky yet."

He shook his head at her. "How have you been managing all this time?"

"Up until yesterday, not so good."

"Yesterday?"

"I kind of… allied with the tributes of District Twelve. You know, with the Victor Blood?"

"Oh, I see."

By that time, Blaine and Meredith had reached the ground.

Up close, Crom was pale with dark circles under his eyes. With every second ticking passed, it seemed like all the lively shade of blonde in his hair was slowly evaporating into the air, leaving his hair almost colorless. He looked Blaine over.

"Yeah. They had water harvesting supplies." Sorace said.

Crom glanced between Sorace and the pack on Meredith's back. "Really?"

"Yes."

"May I see?"

Meredith pulled out her knife with a satisfying _shink_. "Well now," She said. "I haven't forgotten that we're in the Games."

Everything became a blur: Crom lunging at Meredith, the glint of her knife, her scream for Blaine. Blaine couldn't respond. He didn't remember Sorace taking him down, or pinning down his arms with her knees. Sorace dug her fist into his windpipe.

"Oh come on," She said. "You're the nephew of Katniss Everdeen and you can't even take down a twelve-year-old. How pathetic." She pushed her fist down harder. Blaine let out a strangled breath. "How old are you, like sixteen? You're bigger, stronger, and here you are, under my control. One more push, and you're dead. You and your little bitch over there."

Blaine looked to his right. Crom had Meredith in a tight headlock, forcing her to watch Blaine's imminent murder.

"I remember my mom telling me all about how close Katniss was to getting killed in her first game. She went to the feast, tried to get out. A Career had gotten to her. Held her down like I am doing now. But someone saved her. This time around, no one's here to save _you_."

Meredith screamed Blaine's name from behind Crom's hand.

"Any last words for the camera?" Sorace said.

Blaine closed his eyes.

Suddenly, a steel spear cut through the air and penetrated through the back of Crom's head and exited out through his eye. Meredith shook him off. Startled, Sorace jumped off of Blaine.

Something came over him that made him jump to his feet instantly. It was a strange feeling, something he had never felt. Sheer anger and power. He didn't even know what had happened until it was over. He didn't even feel like himself until it was over.

Meredith watched Blaine get to his feet behind Sorace. One arm wrapped around her shoulders from behind, the other around her head. He pulled.

A sickening crack echoed in the clearing. For what felt like a long time, Meredith stood there, watching Sorace's tiny body fall to the ground, her head twisted almost 180 degrees around. She looked up at Blaine. His eyes were burning.

"Blaine!" Meredith scream.

Suddenly, life came back to Blaine as he really took in what happened. It was like he was resurfacing after being in deep waters where the pressure pushed on his ears so hard that he felt he was going to become a vegetable. He gasped like he broke surface. He realized that Meredith was pushing him to the trees.

"We have to go! Careers are coming!" Meredith cried.

Blaine pivoted and ran, but not from the Careers. He ran because he was trying to leave everything behind. He wanted to leave that monster that just killed Sorace. He wanted to leave the boy who was reaped in District 12. He didn't want to become a savage, like the careers. They thirsted for blood; he didn't. And that's how he wanted it to stay.

He wasn't aware of where he was until his feet left solid ground. Where the soil ended, he fell forward into swampy waters. Sputtering, he resurfaced.

"Blaine!" He heard Meredith in the distance, calling for him. "Blaine!"

_Be quiet, they'll hear you and know where you are,_ Blaine thought as he sunk farther into the waters, ready to drown himself.

As water filled his nose, he closed his eyes.

_"Blaine!"_

Blaine suddenly shot out of the water, forgetting suicide. He launched himself back into the thicket blindly. Meredith. That wasn't a call for him this time. It sounded different from her earlier calls. It was more urgent, more panicked. It was more like a screech; a scream. A call for _help._

"Meredith!" Blaine cried. "_Meredith!"_

_"Blaine!" _Her scream was closer, to his right.

Running toward her whimpering, Blaine broke through thicket into a clearing. The monstrous girl from District 11 had Meredith by the hair, about to smash her head into a tree.

Blaine didn't know what to do. Kill her, like he did with Sorace? Because of his selfish self, he had run from Meredith to go commit suicide, leaving her to come find him, only to run into District 11. That was Blaine's fault. It's his obligation to save her, but he still didn't want to kill District 11, even though she was going to kill Meredith. So now what? Was he just going to leave District 11 to kill Meredith? Do everything in your power to keep Meredith alive, Misha had said on the roof top the morning of the first day. Blaine wasn't about to let Misha and Meredith down by running away. But he also couldn't _do it_. He also couldn't kill her. Blaine Anderson doesn't kill.

A harsher voice that resembled Misha's but wasn't whispered in his ear. _Suck it up, you fucking pussy, it's the Hunger Games. Kill her._

But Blaine Anderson doesn't kill.

_But you promised to do everything in your power to keep Meredith alive, you son of a bitch._

But Blaine Anderson doesn't kill.

Suddenly, he was taken back to the night before the games, after the Ceasar Flickerman interviews and he, Meredith, Effie, and Misha were just arriving on their floor in the training center.

_"Wow, you really are Katniss' blood. The Capitol audience is crazy for as they were for Katniss." _Effie had said.

Blaine retorted, _"Everything _has_ to be_ _about Katniss, doesn't it? It's like Blaine Anderson doesn't even exist. All everyone sees is Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire."_

Blaine Anderson doesn't kill… but Katniss Everdeen does.

Blaine lost himself and became engulfed Katniss' anger and embraced it. He lunged at the girl from District 11 and grabbed her hair, yanking it backward. With a cry of pain, the girl let go of Meredith and clawed at her hair as she fell backwards onto the damp soil. Standing over her, Blaine was ready to crush her windpipe with his foot when he realized that the soles of his shoes had sunken into the ground. He forgot that way out here in the arena, there was quicksand. Blaine's eyes widened as the girl recognized his dilemma. She got up off the ground and circled Blaine like cornered prey with bouncy steps to keep herself from sinking. Meredith struggled to free her feet from the ground. Her eyes filled with tears and she watched as Blaine was being prepped for slaughter.

Woman goliath started cracking her knuckles. "So _you're_ the famous Victor Blood. Blaine Anderson…" She drawled.

Blaine stared her down. "Yes. And who the hell are you? I wouldn't have any idea because you're so irrelevant in the Games. No one would notice if you were killed."

She grabbed Blaine's face by the jaw, her nailed digging into his cheeks. Blaine gripped her wrist in return.

"Don't touch him!" Meredith yelled.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" The girl said. "The only thing that should come out of your mouth is you telling your little whore girlfriend over there to shut the hell up."

"She's not-"

"Following in auntie Katniss' footsteps, huh? Using your district partner to get ahead? Or, maybe get some _head_-"

Suddenly, a body broke through the trees. The District 11 girl whipped around and her face was greeted by a knife with a sickly jagged blade.

It was the last person in the arena that Blaine thought would save him: Kurt Hummel.


	7. The Girl

**_Author's Note:_**

_Yay! After like 2 months, I finally finished this chapter! I've just been so busy with school and Drill Team, I haven't found time to write. And when I did, I didn't know what to write. That was like the biggest Writer's Block I have ever had in like such a long time, but yay, it's over and I finally finished, right in the midst of my Finals. So here you go, sorry for the long wait, it's finally here._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Meredith's scream filled the air.<p>

As the girl fell to the earth, Blaine fell back and tried to scramble away, despite his feet still embedded in the ground.

Meredith struggled to reach the water in their pack, but it was laying ways away from where she was. She was still screaming.

Kurt noticed their feet sunken in the earth and took light steps to their pack.

"No," Meredith moaned when he picked the pack up.

Kurt found the water jug. The water sloshed around in it as he uncapped it and poured it around Meredith's feet. She grew in silence and her tears dried as she watched Kurt in surprise. She slipped her feet from the mud.

Kurt went to Blaine next, turning the cement earth to soupy mud. Blaine watched him with cautious eyes. Kurt kept his eyes down. Only once did he look up to Blaine's face. He took in his expression and looked back down. "I come in peace." He said quietly.

When Blaine's feet were freed, he slowly got up. First thing he did was go to Meredith.

"Are you okay? Did she do anything to you?" He asked, hands searching her skin for any abnormities.

"I'm fine." she whispered, her eyes still on Kurt.

Blaine followed her eyes and pushed her behind his body.

Kurt's hand came up. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He tossed the water jug at Blaine's feet.

"Why did you help us?" Meredith asked.

"Well, I'm human, aren't I?"

"But that's not the point of the Games. If things went the way it's supposed to, our blood would be on your hands."

"But it's not."

"So why?" Blaine said.

Kurt paused. "I'm asking myself that same question."

Blaine tensed.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Kurt said again. "But I can't guarantee that I'll save you again. But you can trust me."

"Prove it." Meredith demanded.

Kurt laid down every weapon hidden on him and knelt down to the ground.

Meredith looked up at Blaine. "I don't know about this." She whispered in his ear.

Blaine looked back at her. "Why?"

"Remember last time when we decided to trust another tribute?"

Blaine remembered. Sorace.

"Plus, he's a Career, Blaine. _A Career._ We can't trust him."

Blaine shook his head and looked back at Kurt. "Okay, listen up." He said.

Kurt arched a brow.

"So you want us to trust you? Are you asking for an alliance?"

"Yes." Kurt replied slowly.

"What happened to your Career pack?"

Kurt smiled humorlessly. "It got a little too… competitive."

"And why did you pick _us?_"

"Well who else is there?"

Meredith shrugged. "That's true."

"Why didn't you fly solo?" Blaine continued.

"Everything's easier in a pack."

"But it's the final nine—and it's all Careers."

Kurt looked down in frustration. "You don't want my help? You versus the rest of the Careers? Fine." Kurt plucked his spear from the ground and got to his feet. "I'll just off you to right now—make everything easier." He poised to throw.

Blaine threw up his hands. "Wait!"

Kurt froze.

"Lets just… lets just try tonight, okay? Just try."

Kurt cocked his head to the side a little. "Sure."

* * *

><p>"Isn't it dangerous to light a fire at night?" Blaine whispered as he and Kurt watched the flames of their fire lick the night air. Blaine gently brushed the hair from Meredith's face. Meredith had fallen asleep with her head in Blaine's lap. Blaine had strewn his outer jacket across her small torso, drowning her in black warmth.<p>

"Yes," Kurt replied slowly. "But I'm sure the Careers won't attack—tonight, anyway. They know I'm here. They know I'm waiting for them. I'm basically _inviting_ them to come here and try to kill us, but they're smarter than that. They won't come."

"Why not?"

"Cause they're scared of me. I can take them all down without trying. So they won't come tonight."

Blaine took the information with little grains of salt. He laid a protective hand on Meredith's arm, ready to grab her and run if he needed to. Kurt glanced from the fire to Blaine and then back to the fire.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he said in a monotone, staring at the bright flames.

"Not a word."

Kurt scoffed. "Of course you don't. It's because I'm the bad guy, right?"

Blaine didn't reply.

"I take that as a yes."

"Why are you really here with us right now? You could have gone solo. You could have stayed with the Careers. But you're here with us, the last non-career tributes who are hopeless cases. I want the truth."

Kurt looked over at Blaine. He was silent; he didn't know how to say it, how to answer Blaine's question without scaring him away. But once Blaine's face filled his mind, Kurt realized that there is not nor will ever be a simple answer to a simple question like that. _Why are you here?_ Kurt didn't know. All he wanted was to at least touch Blaine's cheek, just once. How was he supposed to put that in words? He didn't even know _what_ to put in to words. It—what ever _it _was—was indescribable. It was invisible to his heart. He could feel its presence—he just couldn't _see it_. He could taste what it was, but he didn't know what to name it. He was confused. But he liked how it felt. It made him feel warm and whole.

Blaine watched Kurt's face relax. His face melted from an intimidating, composed, strong face to a soft, innocent look that definitely didn't belong in the Games. Suddenly, Kurt's lips emitted a soft smile that glowed brighter than the dim, dying light of the fire.

"I need the company." Kurt finally answered.

Blaine puzzled over the answer, trying to think of all the possible ways Kurt could have meant those words to be. _I need the company._ _I need the company. He needs company… during the Hunger Games… and he needs company…_

"Don't strain yourself." Kurt chuckled.

Blaine looked up at him. "What?"

"I can tell you're trying to figure out what I meant by that."

Blaine pursed his lips.

Kurt smiled and shook his head at the ground. "You'll understand soon… maybe."

* * *

><p>Blaine noticed that Kurt's eyelids fluttered gently when he's asleep. It reminded him of home. It reminded him of the fluttering of the hem of Rachel's dresses when it would get a little windy outside. It reminded him of his mother's hair in the sunshine: flowing, glowing, gold in a gray world. It reminded of what his mother told him and Rachel when they were children, getting tucked into bed.<p>

"_When you have sweet dreams, your eyes start to flutter. Because when they flutter, it means that they want to open up and see that the sweet dreams are real." _She had said.

It reminded him of the blue butterflies that flitted around the meadow right next to the fence. Kurt's eyes looked like the butterflies' wings—blue. Thick blue, shimmering blue, the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen, which were now concealed by his fluttering eyelids. His long eye lashes casted shadows on his soft pink cheeks that grew smaller as the sun started to rise in the artificial sky.

Blaine didn't sleep. Part of him was paranoid about Kurt, and part of him wanted to figure him out; watch him sleep, thinking that the answer will just flash on his forehead. But no, it was just his gentle face glowing through the night for Blaine.

Finally, Meredith woke up. "What time is it?" She whispered.

"Dawn." Blaine answered, his eyes still on Kurt.

"What are you doing?"

"Keeping an eye on things."

Blaine looked up at her. Her eyes said it all: _What in the hell happened to you last night?_

He shook his head at her.

Meredith finally dismissed Blaine and got to her feet to stretch.

When Kurt awoke a few hours later, Blaine finally stood up from his agonizing position to stretch his legs and back, which popped almost immediately.

All three tributes set off through the trees. As the day grew humid and grew longer, Blaine and Meredith began to relax around Kurt. Really, they felt no threat from him. Still, they watched him, but there was a… a positive feeling about him. Like, he wouldn't hurt a fly, even though half of the deaths in the arena were probably his doing.

All day, they've been gathering food with Blaine's knowledge from his family's apothecary book, and spying on the Careers. Although they couldn't hear anything from their camp, it was clear that they weren't going after Kurt, Blaine, or Meredith. In fact, they were one Career short.

"Do you think…?" Meredith whispered.

"No," Kurt replied. "They never hunt alone."

"Then what? Where's the Career?"

"It's Scout."

"Who?"

"Scout. She's from District 4. She's either relieving herself or she was left somewhere to die."

Blaine felt like vomiting.

"Keep it together. It's the Games. It's harder since it's just us and the Career pack. They're like animals. They have to eat each other to survive." Kurt said.

Blaine actually started to retch.

"Not literally, Blaine."

Night fell, and but the temperature didn't. They made camp on the edge of the swamp where the quicksand ended, far out so that all the Careers could see from their camp is black smoke against black sky. That night was a reliever. It didn't even feel like the games. It just felt like a friendly bonding over a fire, which made the night even hotter, but them a little bit closer. They sat around the small fire, telling stories about their families, their districts, their lives. And some point of the evening, Blaine started to sing.

"What's that song you're singing?" Kurt asked.

"It's called 'The Hanging Tree'." Blaine answered.

"'_The Hanging Tree'_? Sounds a bit morbid, don't you think?"

"Take a look around you." Blaine laughed.

Kurt smiled. "Keep going."

Blaine cleared his throat and licked his lips. Looking down at the dirt beneath him, he continued the song.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

"Is there more to the song?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, like… three more verses. Gets more creepier as you go." Blaine replied.

"It's actually really pretty when Rachel or you sing it." Meredith said.

"It's _really_ beautiful when Rachel sings it." Blaine agreed.

"Who's Rachel?" Kurt asked.

"My sister. Well, my half-sister. But we're really close. We're like twins." (Back in District 12, Rachel started to cry)

"Talent must run in the family, then."

Blaine shrugged. "I guess."

Blaine taught the rest of the song to Kurt, and it turns out that Kurt could sing too. According to Meredith, it was like golden sunlight hitting the Earth just right, setting everything ablaze with a shimmering glow. Kurt laughed at the comment.

"I never really took singing too seriously. Never really considered myself good."

"Well then start considering it now." Blaine laughed.

Once again, Blaine watched Kurt sleep. He didn't know if his was imagining it, but Kurt seemed to become more porcelain, more beautiful. His eyelids started to flutter.

The next morning, all three awoke to the refreshing fog. While Meredith set up the mesh for water, Blaine couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. After they collected the water, Blaine whispered to Meredith and Kurt about the feeling that was crawling up his spine. When they climbed their look-out tree at the edge of the forest, they found all the Careers asleep at the camp.

"Blaine, it's just a feeling. I have it all the time. It's the Games, who knows. Maybe it's a mutt or something." Meredith said.

"Yeah, like that's reassuring." Blaine replied.

The fog moved out of the arena like it was sucked out. The sun lit up the arena as Blaine, Meredith, and Kurt walked away from the clearing. The feeling crawled back up Blaine's spine again.

Blaine was on edge the rest of the day: darting his eyes around, jumping whenever a twig snapped, but only to find out that he was the one to snap the twig. After they walked the arena for hours, looking for game or berries, they decided to rest for the rest of the day. All three were exhausted when they settled into a deep ditch that provided a generous amount of shielding shelter against Career or Mutt if either were trying to find them—well, maybe _some_ protection from a Mutt, if its smell sense was impaired. All three fell asleep.

* * *

><p>It was Blaine who woke up first, early enough to hear it. The leaves on the ground were rustling, but not in the way the wind would move them. It was more of a quick <em>crunch<em>, with rustling on the side, like a foot dragging it's self into a step. But suddenly, it began to move away from him—more to the side than away. Blaine opened his eyes and lifted his head. It was a girl, no younger than 13, 14 at most. She towered over the sleeping Kurt with her tiny body. She had a deadly smile that could be dripping with blood. She raised her arm. In her hand gripped a large sword that was half the size of her body. Before she could sink it into Kurt, Blaine jumped up and tackled to the ground with a loud and heavy _thump_.

Both Kurt and Meredith woke with a start.

"Run!" Blaine cried at them while the girl struggled in his arms. "Run!"

* * *

><p><em>Feels so good to be back in the game.<em>


	8. The Second Kill

**_Author's Note:_**

_I'm so sorry for the long wait. I feel like CP Coutler. (Love to Mama CP-take your time.)_

_I've been so busy with Drill, and then I totally forgot that fanfiction even existed and that I had an unfinished one in my flash drive half way though the summer. And then I wedged myself deep into Writer's Block and so I had to re-write half of the chapter. And I had to cut it short. It would have been longer but I don't like not posting anything for like... 2 months. So I'm really giddy right now, putting this new chapter up finally, yay! This ish below that y'all is aboutss to read was 2 months (or howevs long it's been since I last posted a chapter) in the making. Can I get a woot woot?! No? Okay._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Are you, are you<em>

_Coming to the tree_

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree…_

* * *

><p>"Run! Run!"<p>

The words of urgency reached his ears before he can fully focus his heavy eyes. At first he thought it was Meredith in his arms, slashing at the air with a knife. _Was Blaine telling him to run so she doesn't kill me? _But then a hand grabbed his arm. He looked over to see Meredith yanking on him.

"Kurt, lets go, lets go!" She screamed.

Kurt looked back at Blaine. Finally, his eyes focused in on the crazed girl. It was Scout, the Career from 4.

"No!" Kurt cried. He lurched towards Blaine, but Meredith yanked him backwards. Blaine glared at Kurt with the fire burning in his eyes.

"Go now!" he growled. "Take Meredith and _run!_"

Kurt scrambled to his feet, grabbed Meredith's hand, and sprinted into the trees. His father was probably looking at Kurt in disappointment. Kurt was taught to never run, never hide from a fight. And he just did. His father was probably disappointed. Or maybe he was already disappointed at how close he was getting to Blaine and Meredith when he was suppose to slaughter them to win the crown. But Meredith, small and innocent, not even 16 yet—how was he suppose to let her die, let alone kill her himself? And what was he suppose to do with Blaine? Kurt didn't have the heart to even lay a finger of harm on him. He was Blaine. He was… life; imperfect perfection. Blaine was the very center of what felt like… everything. Killing him would take away a lot from the world—well, Kurt's world anyways. Like a light bulb burning out among hundreds, but making everything significantly a bit dimmer. Kurt couldn't do that. He couldn't. It would break him into pieces. Now he wanted to turn back, to save Blaine from Scout. No way he would kill her, she's too powerful, even as a small girl. But the warmth of Meredith's trembling hand in his brought him completely to his senses. He has to keep her safe first—for Blaine.

* * *

><p>Blaine let go of the girl as soon as Kurt and Meredith disappeared beyond the trees.<p>

The girl was almost snarling. "Hello." She growled. Her smile was deadly.

Blaine nodded his head. "Hello."

"So, Boy Wonder, what are you doing with Kurt, huh?"

"What do you mean, what are we doing? We're doing nothing, we're allies." He replied, still a little breathless.

"Bull shit, he wouldn't abandon us for you, fresh meat! Now hand it over!" She shouted.

"Hand what over?"

"Hand what ever you have that we don't have over. Clearly Kurt's here for it. He's a selfish boy, he only cares about himself. He's doing whatever he can to save his life."

"That's the point of the Games."

"Yeah. That's why I'm here. I want what ever Kurt is here for. There's only one victor, and it's gonna be me. Now give it to me."

"I don't have anything! All I have is water and mesh!"

"Liar." Scout growled.

"How do you know I'm lying, huh?"

"It's the Games. You can't trust anyone."

Scout took one step closer to Blaine, gripping her knife tight.

Blaine started to see red.

* * *

><p>It scared Kurt how fast these feelings came over him. He felt like he was a silly school girl tripping over her feet just to be next to a mere boy who caught her attention. Kurt mentally cursed the universe for making everything harder for him. He didn't want to admit it. He had too much pride to say—even <em>think<em> it—but yes. Kurt was.

_In love!_

Even thinking the words in association with Blaine's face made him flinch; not that Blaine wasn't what he wanted. Kurt never wanted to fall in love or have a family. He wanted power, he wanted pride. He was selfish, and he was willing to do what he could to be the man he wanted to be. But now, being here, having spent time with someone who really opened his eyes to a new world made him rethink his priorities. Kurt barely acknowledged the fact that he was in love with a _boy_—every little thing Blaine did make Kurt's heart a little bit more warmer, and that was good enough for him.

But they were in the Hunger Games. The realization slaps Kurt every time. In the end, only one will come out of the arena alive, and he's not sure if should be him anymore. He came into this arena, ready to sweep victory out of the gamemakers' hands. His mind was so set on it. But if that's all he wanted, then why bother even living? Every other tribute came into this arena to fight for their right to live, and all Kurt wanted was money. He didn't want to live, he just wanted the money. But Blaine wants to see his home again, his family, his sister, even his poor excuse of a district.

Kurt laughed at himself. His little superior attitude came shining though a bit in his thoughts. It was a little ridiculous.

Maybe dying won't be as bad as people make it look. He would happily let Death take him away if it meant that Blaine gets to live and be happy.

* * *

><p>Suddenly, the cannon sounded. Tears springing to his eyes, Kurt jumped down onto the hard earth from the high tree branch they hid in, Meredith following in panicked pursuit. Together, they sprinted back to their little camp ground.<p>

Kurt didn't know if he was prepared or not if they were to find a pale body with the life stripped from it on the ground with dark, dark curly hair…

Panting hard, Kurt crashed through the brush with Meredith on his heels. He didn't know how to react.

Blaine was alive, yes, but he didn't look like… _Blaine_.

His bright ruby fingers matched his face, the veins on his forehead and neck were popping out. He half crouched over the bloody face of the once vicious career, her jaws completely ripped apart. You could probably count all her teeth by the backs of them. The shocking image of the scene, though, was Blaine's _eyes_. They were like sharp daggers. You could almost feel the heat, anger, and passion radiating from them. Blaine's eyes were white-hot golden. And for a second, Kurt thought he saw a flash of eye color change from the hazel-turned-to-gold fire, to steel cold gray, and back.

Blaine's power surprised Kurt and made him feel a little giddy. Kurt felt like he found an equal, which made him smile. It was an incredible feeling. He didn't think Blaine had it him. He should have suspected the moment he saw the fire in Blaine's eyes during the first day at the training center. There's always been something there, and it took the Hunger Games to let it all out. Kurt finally felt at home with someone. He felt the urge to leap forward and embrace Blaine tightly, but it'd be pretty odd for observers to watch, since Blaine just brutally murdered someone's _child_.

All Kurt could say at the moment was "My goodness, Blaine."

That's when the dull hazel came back to Blaine's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted. He fell back with a thick thud to the ground.

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><p><em>Since school is starting up again soon, plus Drill and Driver's Ed shit, I don't know when the next chapter is gonna be up. Probably not this month, surely. I feel like it's gonna be a long time until I actually start writing too.<em>

_lawl watch me when i post ch 9 like in a week lol jk_


	9. The Flood

_**Author's Note:**_

_FINALLY, HERE IT IS: CHAPTER 9!_

_Sorry, Y'alls, I've been so incredibly busy for these past couple months with school and dance. But now that school's over and I have a 3-week break from dance, I have finally gotten around to finishing chapter 9. Sorry I couldn't deliver something better. It's really short, but we're getting to the good part. And it's sad because... the story's almost over :( But don't worry! this shit's going out with a bang._

_Now, without further delay, enjoy :)_

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><p>It was dark when Blaine came to. Heat entered his pores as he breathed deeply, smelling pine. He felt drained. His head was throbbing and his body felt stiff as a board. He must have been out for a while. He balled up his hands, then released them. They felt dry. Like something had dried on his hands. His fingers managed to pull apart from the weak adhesive that coated his hands. A cold pressure brushed them.<p>

"Blaine?"

Blaine moaned in response.

"Do you need water?"

Blaine moaned again.

"I think that's a yes." Another voice said. Blaine couldn't tell who, though. Everything at that moment just sounded like echoes in the static white noise.

A thick warm sensation washed over his tongue. It flooded his throat.

Blaine's eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, sputtering and coughing violently. At his side, Meredith was holding a flask, looked startled and disheveled.

"I'm sorry!" She squeaked. She patted Blaine's back hard.

"How many days was I out for?" He croaked.

"You were only out for a couple hours."

Blaine rubbed his face with his hands, trying to chase away the stupor that was threatening to pull him back under. His palms felt scratchy. He examined his hands in the light of the lit fire. Pale splotches of red dotted his palms, smeared between his knuckles, and under his fingernails. He studied the red on his fingers. He looked up at Meredith. Her face was grave.

"What is this?" He asked her firmly. "Where's Kurt?"

Meredith took one of Blaine's hands.

"What did I do?" He asked her in a small voice.

"I don't know." Meredith replied.

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine asked again.

"He's off getting wood for the fire."

"Oh, my God," Blaine sighed in relief, letting his head fall into his hands. "For a second there I thought I had killed Kurt."

"You wouldn't have survived if you tried to kill Kurt." Meredith chuckled.

They sat in silence, listening to the crackle of the dying fire.

"You were really worried for a second there, weren't you?" Meredith asked.

Blaine stayed quiet.

"You care about him." She said, quieter. Probably too quiet for the camera microphones to pick up.

Blaine smiled. The truth was, yes. Yes, Blaine cared for a selfish boy from a Capitol-favored district. A boy who wanted to spill blood. A boy who was going to kill him up until a week ago. He cared for that boy. The boy who pulled him from the hands of Death. The boy who saved Meredith. The boy who risked his safety for two people from District 12. Panem probably has already picked up on him and Kurt. The more Blaine thinks about it, he starts to realize that they move around each other. They correspond. They connect. They're like Karma; one gets what one gives. Meredith surely picked up on it.

"It's kind of obvious, you know. Well, to me it is. I don't know about the rest of the nation." Meredith whispered.

"I wish there weren't any feelings from the start."

Meredith propped her head up on her hand next to Blaine. "Why?"

"So that things would be easier. Before, I had a good chance of wiping them all out. Now, I just can't… imagine him not being here. I don't know what I'm feeling, really. I just know that… he can't die."

Meredith brushed his cheek with her fingertips. She shook her head. "Blaine—"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Blaine closed his eyes in defeat, a single tear slipping out.

Meredith gripped Blaine's hand and looked to the sky for the hope that didn't exist.

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><p>"Wake up, wake up! You're sinking into the ground!"<p>

Blaine's eyes flew open. It was Kurt. He was soaked from the knees down. He yanked hard on Blaine's arm. "We gotta go! The whole place is flooding!"

Blaine's leg was halfway under the moist Earth. He can see the water lapping at the edge of their clearing. He yanked his leg as hard as he could out from the ground. Kurt was already helping Meredith up. Once Blaine was free, he grabbed their packs. The water was already soaking their boots, helping the ground swallow them up faster.

"Where do we go?!" Blaine cried.

"We have no other choice." Kurt replied. He had a spear in his hand and he gripped it hard.

Meredith gave a little choke and pulled out her knife.

Blaine understood. He sighed, then nodded once. "Lets go."

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><p><em>Teeny tiny chapter, you guys, sorry. But OOOOOOO SHIT'S ABOUT TO GO DZZOWN<em>


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